The boy had gone out to get change.
[Illustration]
I was waiting in the studio, listening to the photographer. He was in
quite a small way of business, and no one would have expected him to
have any change for anything. I was sitting on a rustic stile, with a
Greek temple and some wilted Spiræas in the background. He was in the
dark room, busy, splashing liquids about, and reminiscent. I still
believe that he thought the time of waiting would seem shorter
to me if he talked. The whole place seemed to suggest financial
difficulties, and smelt of chemicals.
"You remember the Punyer case?" he asked. His voice sounded thin and
far-off through the closed door of the dark room.
I did. PUNYER had been a cashier, and had absconded with rather more
than the usual amount.
"Well, I had some dealings with PUNYER. As a cashier he was certainly
dishonest, but as a man he was absolutely reliable, and nothing
would induce him to break his word. I know that to be a fact from my
personal experience of the man; indeed, it was through me that he was
identified--or, rather, through one of my photographs."
"Really?"
"Yes. On the day that he absconded, a four-wheeler drove up to this
house. The driver got off, and sent a message up to the studio that
a gentleman in a cab outside wished to speak to me. So, of course, I
went out. Inside the cab I found a man wearing a thick green veil. He
explained to me that his face had been injured in a railway accident,
and that he could not allow it to be seen by any one. He wanted me to
photograph the back of his head. He knew that the request was unusual.
'But,' he said, pathetically, 'my few friends have got to know the
back of my head, just as they know the faces of others who are--who
are less unfortunate than myself. The doctors tell me that I have not
long to live, and my friends are eager to have some slight memento of
me.' I was much moved, and I agreed to photograph him at once."
"The man was PUNYER?"
"Of course. The photograph of the back of his head turned out
admirably--clear and full of character."
"But why did he get photographed at all?"
"You shall hear; it all came out afterwards. I have already told
you that PUNYER, in his private capacity, was a man of his word. It
appears that he was engaged to a Miss MIRANDA BUDE. Indeed, it was to
her that I was to send the photographs when they were finished. He
had promised her that he would have his photograph taken for her on
his birthday; and the day on which he absconded happened to be his
birthday. He could not break his promise. What was he to do? At first
he disguised himself as far as he could; he shaved off his luxurious
beard and moustache; he had his long fair hair closely cropped
and stained black. But there was on his face one certain mark of
identification which he could not alter nor remove. It was a slight
scar, extending diagonally across his forehead; when he was a child
he once fell into the fender, and the mark had remained ever since.
At last the bright idea occurred to him that he might have the back
of his head photographed instead of his face, and so keep his promise
to MIRANDA. It was really a brilliant idea. For there was absolutely
nothing in the view of the back of his head by which he _could_ be
identified."
"But you told me just now that he actually _was_ identified by your
photograph."
"So he was;--I was just going to explain. I was sitting in my studio
one day, touching up the photographs of the back-view of PUNYER,
when in came a detective from Scotland Yard. From his appearance, a
detective was the last thing on earth that you would have taken him to
be."
"They generally say that in the detective stories," I said,
meditatively.
"If you think I'm making this up--"
"No, no,--not at all. Go on."
"Well, he told me his business, and I at once showed him one of the
photographs, telling him under what circumstances they were taken. He
examined it carefully. 'Ah!' he said, 'if I only could prove that this
was PUNYER, I should be able to complete my case, and my advancement
would be certain. In my own mind I am convinced of it, but at present
I cannot prove it. PUNYER had a scar on his face. It was like his
devilish cunning to have only the back of his head photographed!' He
was just leaving, when suddenly a new idea seemed to flash across him.
He seized the photograph, and rushed across to the mirror. You know
that if anything is written backwards, you can read it by holding it
up to a looking-glass. So, of course, the detective, by holding up
the photograph of the back-view, saw the full-face reflected. The scar
showed just above the green veil, and consequently--"
At this point the boy returned with my change. The photographer had
locked himself into the dark room, and I could not get at him; the law
gives a man no redress under such circumstances, and so I came away.
I might have got over the story, perhaps; but my change, I found
afterwards, was sixpence short, and that is not so easy to forgive.
* * * * *
"ENTERTAINMENT."
["People of this high class (Royal Highnesses, &c.) are said
to 'entertain' visitors, but that is an inversion of the
actual fact; their object is to be entertained. And quite
right too. Nothing can surely be more delightful than to have
one's house full of friends at will, and then be able to turn
them out at a moment's notice (as a life-boat gets rid of
superfluous water) by that simple mechanism of a Chamberlain.
When the Social System attains its acmé, all of us will have a
Chamberlain and be entertained."--JAMES PAYN.]
_Host_ (_concerning Guest_):--
The twenty-first day, and no signs of a budge!--
And it isn't for want of "suggestion."
I begin to suspect Hospitality's fudge,
Meaning--mutually ruined digestion!
He _is_ such a bore, and his wife is _so_ fat,
And as fond of her bed as a dormouse.
My girls say--in confidence--_she_ is a cat;
I'm sure he's a prig and a poor-mouse.
I fancied he'd "influence," which he might use
For DICK, our third son, who's a duffer.
It doesn't come off, and I really refuse
In DICK's interests longer to suffer.
PAYN's right, and a Chamberlain would be a boon.
Ah! I know so precisely what PAYN meant.
What! Be entertained--by one's guests? I'd as soon
From a locust-swarm seek--Entertainment!
_Guest_ (_concerning Host_):--
Hah! He wants to get rid of us, currish old cub!
But, although it's by no means amusing,
My only alternative now is the Club.
Confound Mrs. JONES for refusing
McMUNGO's "invite" into Scotland. She thought
This crib was as swell, and more cosy.
She hoped, too, to meet that young MAGNUS MCNAUGHT,
Who once seemed so sweet on our ROSIE.
We're bored to extinction, and BLOGGS is a "foots";
If we're late down to breakfast, he snorts at us.
He worries our lives out with pic-nics and shoots,
And will flourish his Clarets and Ports at us.
My wife likes her ease and her breakfast in bed;
I hate cellar-swagger and scurry.
Entertainment indeed! We're as lumpish as lead
When we're not on the whirl or the worry.
But turn out to-morrow, my BLOGGS? No, not me,
Though I know what your "little hints" signify.
Your "dear DICK" forsooth! Such a noodle as he
The title of "duffer" would dignify
You've given up hope about him, and so now
You would have us "make room." Not precisely!
Till the Tenth, when we're due at Dunclacket, somehow
"The Doldrums" will do pretty nicely.
PAYN's right. With "high rank and no manners," a man
His guests may "evict" at his pleasure;
But BLOGGS--till he hits on some "Chamberlain" plan--
Must leave 'em to flit at their leisure.
I made up my mind when I came to this place;
For a month, at the least, to remain meant.
Though now my amusement at BLOGGS's wry face
Is nearly my sole "Entertainment."
* * * * *
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